His Bride

2 | Dhruv Chauhan

Dhruv's Pov

Today marked Great Nanna's memorial, a day of reflection and gratitude for the legacy he left behind. It was a solemn yet special tradition for our family. Each year, we began with a quiet prayer at the mansion, a private moment of remembrance. He had shaped not only our lives but the lives of countless others through his vision for education in Rajasthan. I'd grown up hearing stories of his wisdom, his generosity, his relentless drive to see this land thrive—and even though I'd never met him, I felt his presence in the walls of our home and the lives he touched.

After the prayer, I was supposed to spend the day handling family affairs, letting Baba represent us as the guest of honor at Rajasthan University (RU). The university had been founded by Great Nanna and remained an institution close to our family's heart. It wasn't just a center of learning—it was a symbol of our heritage, our commitment to the people of Rajasthan. Every year, my father would attend the ceremony at RU, giving a speech honoring Great Nanna's contributions and inspiring the students to carry his vision forward.
But fate had other plans. There was a last-minute change, and suddenly, it was my turn to go in Baba's place. He couldn't attend due to an unforeseen commitment, and since he didn't want to cancel, he asked me to represent our family. It wasn't unusual for this kind of change to happen, and I was used to stepping in when needed. But I had to admit, RU's events always had an intensity to them. Students, professors, officials—everyone there held our family's legacy in high regard, which made it feel like the stakes were higher.

As I drove to RU, I tried to prepare myself for the day ahead. It was one thing to be surrounded by the quiet dignity of our mansion; it was another to be in a grand hall filled with people who saw me as a symbol of that legacy. I could handle it, but part of me still felt the weight of the expectations that came with being part of the royal family.

The ceremony was beautifully arranged, just as it was every year. The hall was filled with respectful murmurs and an air of reverence. People looked up as I entered, their eyes tracking my every move. I was used to the attention, but it still made me feel a certain way, like I had to carry myself with even more precision and control.

Then came a moment I hadn't anticipated. There was a dance performance scheduled to honor Great Nanna, but due to some last-minute rearrangements, a different professor from the English department had stepped in to fill the role. I hadn't expected anything remarkable—I was there to observe, to honor, to be present. But as the dance began, I found myself unexpectedly drawn in.

The woman on stage moved with an elegance and grace that was mesmerizing. She wasn't performing for the audience; she was lost in the dance, fully immersed, as if it were an extension of herself. She carried an intensity in her movements, a rhythm that seemed to flow effortlessly, each step filled with purpose.

My gaze was locked onto her, captivated. There was something about her presence that was... different. She had this quiet confidence, an authenticity that pulled me in. I couldn't look away. I didn't want to. It was as if everything else faded, leaving just her and the music.

When the performance ended, I noticed her scanning the crowd, searching for something or someone. And then, her eyes met mine. A moment stretched between us, charged, as if the room had suddenly gone silent. Her gaze lingered, and I felt something flicker inside me, an unfamiliar spark I couldn't quite place.

In that instant, I forgot who I was supposed to be, the royal heir, the representative of my family's legacy. I was simply a man watching a woman who had captivated him in a way he hadn't expected.

The moment was fleeting, but it left a weight in my chest. As our eyes met and something electric seemed to pass between us, she turned away, her figure disappearing backstage. I watched her go, caught in a strange, almost magnetic pull that left me with more questions than answers. Who was she?